Twas the Night Before Hogswatch
by Beloved Fool
Summary: Re-done, edited(slightly) and up again for your enjoyment. 'Beauty and the Terrifying Beast' feat. Death, Detritus, William de Worde and many more! Plus A Moft Puzzling Myftery due to be solved by the Watch...
1. Chapter One

I don't own Discworld or Beauty and the Beast.

William de Worde, editor of the Discworld's first newspaper (The Ankh- Morpork Times), groaned as he surveyed the piles of paperwork on his desk. He reached for a newly sharpened quill and was just about to dip it into the inkpot when there was a knock at the office door. He sighed and sat back in his chair.  
  
"Come in," he called. Rufus Drumknott, undersecretary to the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, Lord Vetinari, walked in and thrust a sheaf of papers under William's nose. The editor took one and read it carefully. It said:  
  
THE BEAUTY AND THE TERRIFYING BEACH  
  
The Dyfk Theatre, Ankh-Morpork  
  
HOGSWATCHNIGHT  
  
'The Greateft Story Ever Told!'  
  
William looked up at Drumknott, whose face was impassive as he waited for a response. He looked down again and re-read the flier.  
  
"'The Beauty and the Terrifying Beach'?" He asked the clerk. Drumknott shrugged.  
  
"A typeset error. Mr Goodmountain assured me that it would be amended. It's supposed to say, 'The Beauty and the Terrifying Beast'."  
  
"Oh. Right. Really the greatest story ever told?"  
  
"Mr Hwel assured his Lordship that it was." William stared.  
  
"Hwel?" He asked flatly. "This is Hwel as in the Eight Great Tragedies, probably the bloodiest plays on the Disc?" Drumknott looked uncertain.  
  
"Um. Yes. They haven't finished casting for the main roles of Belle Ringer, the, err-" He consulted a piece of paper from his pocket. "The Beautiful and Bold Warrioress who challenges the Terrifying Beast who dared to cast his eyes upon her, to a duel whereby defeating him. And the Beast. Mr Vitoller suggested Sergeant Detritus of the City Watch. Oh, yes, and you for the narrator."  
  
"What? Why?" Drumknott shrugged again.  
  
"Beats me. I only came round, on the Patrician's instruction, of course, to see if you would take the part."  
  
"Do I have a choice?" William asked glumly.  
  
"You can take the part or you can't and then Mr Vitoller has to find someone else. But then, of course hardly anyone else in the city has such a way with words as you do and it will be an experience."  
  
"Oh, all right. I knew he'd get me back someday for starting the newspaper," he added in an undertone.  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"Just talking to myself. Lord Vetinari is taking a special interest in the play, then?"  
  
"He's financing it himself. I'll tell him you'd be delighted. Goodbye, de Worde."  
  
With that, Drumknott left the newspaper office, closing the door behind him, leaving William sitting there, still staring at the piece of paper in his hands.

Commander Samuel Vimes of Ankh-Morpork City Watch stared at the piece of paper on his desk with stunned disbelief. It was very similar to the one still currently in William's hands. Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson, the Discworld's tallest dwarf stood rigidly to attention in front of him and Sergeant Angua, the Watch's very own werewolf, stood next to him, trying to conceal her amusement with quite some difficulty.  
  
"Mr Drumknott left this?" Vimes managed at last. Carrot saluted smartly and replied,  
  
"Yes, sir. He left it with old Washpot, sir. I had to get it off him before he could substitute it with one of his own, sir." Vimes nodded gloomily. Constable Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets was a devout Omnian and even had his own printing press on which he made his own leaflets, but he failed spectacularly (and perhaps unsurprisingly given Om's reputation as a god) when it came to conversions. Nothing could clear a street faster than the news that Constable Visit was on his way other than the news that Sergeant Detritus was coming with his siege bow, which he called the Piecemaker.  
  
"Did Drumknott say anything?"  
  
"Only that the Patrician was taking a special interest in the play, sir, and he would be especially pleased if members of the Watch would volunteer 'as part of their civic duty', sir."  
  
Vimes swore under his breath. There was a knock at the door and Corporal Nobbs- self-proclaimed human being- was admitted.  
  
"What is it, Nobby?" Vimes asked wearily, passing a hand over his face. Nobby looked suddenly shifty, although he looked like this all of the time, and shuffled his feet.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Well, Mister Vimes, me and Fred, well, all of the lads really, if we was going to be volunteers for this play, only I have some experience on the stage."  
  
"What as?"  
  
"Well," said Nobby, "I was the front end of a cow, well, I say the front end, but the director, he said I looked more like the back end and- sorry, miss?" Angua had temporarily lost control and had allowed an explosive burst of laughter escape her but at the last minute, she turned into a violent sneeze.  
  
"Sorry, Nobby. Just a bit of an allergy there."  
  
Vimes sighed heavily.  
  
"Get Sergeant Detritus in here, will you, Angua?" The sergeant left the office. Vimes looked at the flier on his desk again. He really needed a drink. He looked up at Carrot who was still standing to attention. He sighed again.  
  
"All right. Anyone who wants to get out of this now, they're free to. Gods know they have a choice. Carrot, put this flier up downstairs. If Vetinari wants volunteers, we'll just have to see what we've got."  
  
"You called, sir?" Sergeant Detritus loomed in the doorway, making the doorframe creak quite alarmingly.  
  
"Ah, yes. Come in, Sergeant. I have a notice here from Mr Vitoller, calling for volunteers for his new play, 'The Beauty and the Terrifying Beast' and he seems to have specified you as a candidate for the role of the Terrifying Beast. What do you say?"  
  
Detritus appeared to think about this for several moments, his knuckles touching the ground, before he reached a decision.  
  
"I fink I would like ter have a try, sir."  
  
"Well done, that troll. Mr Vitoller and ultimately the Patrician, will be pleased. 'Civic duty'? Hah! By the gods, we'll take Ankh-Morpork by storm!"  
  
"Er-"  
  
"Not literally, captain."  
  
"Oh."

Review please! Constructive criticism only!


	2. Chapter Two

**_Thank you once again for any reviews and constructive criticism like, 'These chapters should be longer!' I shall certainly bear that in mind. Also any ideas that you could e-mail me with would be very much appreciated as my creativity has taken a nosedive into a black hole and as the reputation of such phenomena goes, I have not been able to retrieve it.  
  
This, merry people, is chapter three and now we go to the Dysk Theatre, Ankh-Morpork to meet Mr Vitoller as he struggles through auditions for the main roles in 'The Beauty and the Terrifying Beast' aided with a dose of sedative, a glass of water and a notepad (the pen goes without saying really).  
  
In order for Mr Boggis of the Thieves' Guild to roast unlicensed criminals on an open fire, he will use flames from any reviews I might receive containing them, whereas constructive criticism will go to a good home (Lady Sybil's Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick Dragons, Contributions Welcome)._**

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Vitoller poked his head round the stage door round the back of the Dysk Theatre, and quickly brought it back again, slamming the door. His son by adoption, Tomjon, was watching him anxiously. Vitoller passed a hand over his eyes.  
  
"All right, how many are there?" He asked, dreading the answer.  
  
"Over eighty, I should think, father. Mr Drumknott did say that the Patrician was enthusiastic about this play."  
  
"Yes, but how enthusiastic would he be if the theatre came down around our ears suddenly? Okay, you don't have to answer that. So, they're all here for auditions?"  
  
Tomjon nodded. Vitoller groaned. He removed his hand from his face and stared at his son thoughtfully.  
  
"Couldn't you deal with them?"  
  
"You're not going to turn them away?" The boy sounded horrified. "That....mob out there? There'd be a riot to shame all other riots!"  
  
"All right, all right. I know." Vitoller sighed wearily. "I'll see them all, one at a time. Get Marble to keep them quiet, will you? And send the first one in."  
  
Somewhere near the back of the dwindling line whilst Vitoller was seeing to the auditioners, Detritus and Nobby were playing Cripple Mr Onion on the ground with a pack of old, battered playing cards. Or Nobby was teaching Detritus Nobby's own rules of the game, which seemed to consist of the troll showing the other his cards whilst Nobby took the cards he needed and used them against Detritus. They had reached a lull though, one that someone always tries to fill up with useless conversation.  
  
"What's this speffic candy-date then, Mister Vimes says you was?" asked Nobby. Detritus shrugged, not an easy feat if you're made of rock and dislodged some gravel from his shoulders.  
  
"Dunno," he said. "But he wanted me to be a Beast what was terrifying for a play. Sounds like a new career thingy, er..."  
  
"Prospeck?"  
  
"Yeah, one of dem. I reckon I could do well as an actor, wot with my impersonations."  
  
"Yeah," said Nobby, "You could be the backdrop to any amount of plays with your uncanny 'bility to be rock."  
  
"It's a tuff business, Mister Vimes says."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Showbusiness."  
  
"Oh. Yeah. Reckon he's right an' all. You can get tough crowds. Throwing peanuts at you, that sort of thing."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Detritus, somewhat gloomily now. "'Spect many trolls have audited for dis as a backdrop."  
  
Nobby nodded.  
  
"Yep. And it's audit-ioned, Detritus."  
  
Detritus brightened a bit.  
  
"But I bet dey haven't audit-ioned for the part of der Beast. I reckon dat's safe enuff."  
  
Vitoller was fast reaching the end of his tether and he was travelling at lightspeed. So far, he had seen twelve, no...was it fifteen...wait a minute...it seemed like...twenty? Well, he had seen more than he had wanted to anyway and it didn't look like it was going to get any better anytime soon. He sighed and reached for the anti-headache pills beside his glass of water, tossed two into his mouth and washed them down. The next candidate came up on stage. It was a...a vampire by the evening wear, a Black Ribboner by the look of it as well. Vitoller relaxed somewhat, which meant that he was only as stiff as willow wood.  
  
"Carry on, Mr...err...Mr...? What is your name, please?"  
  
"My name is Vladmir von Uberwald. Of course, that is only my shortened name. To tell it all would take a matter of time."  
  
"Which we haven't got." Vitoller gave Vladmir a brittle smile, which suggested that the wearer was on the brink of insanity and some bastard was coming up behind to push him into the chasm.  
  
"Please continue, Mr von Uberwald."  
  
Of course." Vladmir bowed. "This is from a little play I wrote myself called, 'That Vich Ve Vill Not Drink', about a vampire's struggle to remain b-vurd free." He handed a thick wad of parchment with spidery writing across it to Vitoller. He took it, frowning.  
  
"B-vurd?"  
  
"I vud so much prefer not to say it but it is bl...blo..."  
  
Vitoller cut him off. The vampire looked somewhat relieved.  
  
"I think I understand. Please go on."  
  
"Okay, thank you. Um, yes. This is the end scene. On page number forty-two. I will be playing the role of Erik von Uberwald who has had to give up his love of the b-vurd in order to fit in with the humans around him. Erm, could you be playing the vial of blood that is calling out to him so tantalisingly, please?"  
  
Vitoller obediently turned to the correct page. Before he opened his mouth however, all the lights went out and there was a pain explosion at the back of his head. As he slumped forward, he was dimly aware that he could hear screams.

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Vimes put the newspaper down on the desk and turned to the front page. There was a large picture in the middle, showing Mr Vitoller with a bandage around his head, standing outside of the Dysk, under the headlines in bold capital letters, and underneath the news item, which read:  
  
**'VITOLLER IN SHOCK ATTACK!!**  
  
_Vitoller of Vitoller's Players was earlier this evening involved in an outrageous attack at the Dysk Theatre, downtown Ankh-Morpork. A few chandeliers were unscrewed and fell. Luckily, no one died but several people were injured including three dwarfs and one vampire who commented after he had been swept up and put back into shape. "It all happened so fast," said Mr von Uberwald. "The lights vent out, there vas a big crash and then I vas having to be swept up and restored again." The City Watch are still questioning witnesses and are open to any information.'_  
  
The commander looked up at Captain Carrot who was standing to attention once again in front of him.  
  
"I take it no one saw anyone near the light fittings?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Nothing by the trap door?"  
  
"Nothing, sir. Mr von Uberwald was standing right next to it when the smoke came. After he was restored fully, he said it was like being back in Uberwald again."  
  
"Good grief."  
  
"Yes, sir. Angua and Cheery are still looking for Marble, the watch troll, Mr Vitoller had hired after that last incident with the Librarian."  
  
Vimes sighed.  
  
"Well, captain, it seems like we have yet another mystery on our hands."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Damn."  
  
He stood up and put his helmet on.  
  
"Come on then, Carrot. Let's take a look at the scene of the crime."


	3. Chapter Three

Corporal Cheery Longbottom, half of the Watch's entire forensic department covered her eyes as Sergeant Angua changed behind a convenient wagon nearby. Like most werewolves, Angua preferred to do this out of the way of humans and other species mostly for decency's sake but also because the intermediate shapes were not so pleasant. Cheery was only too happy to oblige. From Uberwald herself, she was familiar with werewolves and their different ways.

"Are you ready?" she asked hesitantly. A growl was all she received for an answer. The dwarf took her hands away from her face and watched as the werewolf put its nose to the ground and investigated the alleyway behind the Dysk Theatre. Cheery watched for a minute as dustbins, abandoned fruit and vegetable crates were examined, even bits of scrap paper were given a thorough examination before a sniff of what the dwarf took for disdain and Angua moved on.

"Um, I'll just look over here then, shall I?" Cheery asked nervously. She started to search near a pile of what looked like rags near the back entrance of the theatre that the werewolf hadn't gotten to yet. A glint of gold caught her eye. Closing her eyes and trying not to think about anything, err, unusual that might be down there, she closed her eyes and stuck her arm in right up to her shoulder, hand moving around. Finally, she grasped something with a curved edge and corners and pulled it out.

"I think I have something!" She called over her shoulder. Angua gave an affirmative yelp and trotted over to her side.

In the palm of her hand, amongst some inevitable collected dirt from the rag pile, Cheery held what looked like half of a gold coin with spidery writing around the edge in a strange language. The dwarf frowned.

"We'd better take this to Mr Vimes," she said.

Meanwhile, Mr Vimes was having a lot of trouble getting into the theatre past the crowd of all shapes, sizes and species. Finally, Captain Carrot, under Vimes' instruction managed to plough through the masses leaving many disgruntled people and things in his wake. Vimes smiled and followed the captain through the door into the Dysk theatre.

Mr Vitoller himself came to greet them and shook both their hands vigorously before motioning them into his office and inviting them to sit down. He remained standing, however, and went to look out of the small window that looked out onto the back alleyway.

"I have already told one of your policemen what I remember happened," he said, his back still facing them. "A Sergeant Colon, I believe. Captain Carrot talked to Mr von Uberwald." Carrot nodded although Vitoller couldn't see him. Vimes flipped through his notebook. There were a few notes about the play, a summary of Carrot's interview with the vampire and Fred had given him a leaf out of his own notebook with Vitoller's account on. Apart from that, no clues, nothing worth writing down had been spotted. But it was still early days yet. He made a mental note to ask how the script for the 'The Beauty and the Terrifying Beast' was going and also that the bandage from around the man's head had gone leaving an irrevocable dent in the centre of his forehead that Vimes had noticed when he had come to greet them.

"I need to know, sir, about the people who came for the auditions. How many were there?" Vitoller turned.

"You'd better ask my son, Commander. He was the one who had to usher them in because the watch troll had disappeared."

"Watch troll? This would be – err – Marble?" Vimes consulted Sergeant Colon's notes in his impeccably neat handwriting. Vitoller nodded.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Although he doesn't usually finish work until around ten o'clock. He works a nine hour day. I do remember now that he asked for time off – Tomjohn told me - he wanted to finish around five yesterday evening. This wasn't really possible because we had to set up for the auditions."

"So he just disappeared?"

"Looks like it."

"You don't know why he wouldn't have shown up today?"

"No. He's always been a good worker, Commander. He gets on with everybody – he talks a lot more than is usual with trolls I've dealt with, you see. Even Tomjohn owes him his life. He seems to dote on my son particularly."

"Your son owes him his life?" Vimes frowned and wrote this down. Vitoller sighed and sat down behind his desk.

"Yes. A couple of months ago, due to the Lewton affair, we had to undergo some serious reconstruction. Tomjohn and Marble were on the stage, cleaning up after the workmen had finished when a sandbag fell from the rafters, one of those two- tonne things, straight for my son. Now, a workman who was clearing up also, witnessed the falling bag and cried out to Tomjohn and Marble but for some reason or other, only the troll heard and pushed my son out of the way in time."

Vimes whistled softly. "Was there an investigation into why the bag was falling in the first place?" Vitoller shook his head.

"It was just an accident. You can imagine that I was more concerned for the safety of my son when I heard. Besides, neither the workman nor the troll said that they could see anyone up in the rafters." Vimes nodded. He finished taking down what Vitoller had told him in addition to Fred's notes and shut his notebook.

"Thank you very much, Mr Vitoller," he said. "If we hear anything more, we will let you know – as much as we can, you know."

"Yes. Thank you, Commander."

As soon as Vitoller had shown them out, Vimes turned to Carrot.

"You stayed surprisingly quiet, captain."

"Sir?"

"There's definitely something more to this. I can't shake off the feeling that it's more than someone who woke up the other morning and thought, hmm, wouldn't it be interesting to try and kill someone today? No, something more sinister is going on."

Carrot raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Vimes shook his head.

"Not here," he said. "I'll fill you in on things you may have missed once we get back to Pseudopolis Yard. I want Angua and the others there as well."

"Okay, sir. Should I send a pigeon?"

"No, they should be there already if I think they've found what I think they've found."

And what's that, sir?"

Vimes turned to him with a vaguely surprised look.

"Nothing, of course. You know my views on Clues. Damn things, can't trust 'em."

Carrot inclined his head and spoke in a whisper, just audible to the commander.

"You've found a Clue, sir?"

"Just wait 'till we get back to my office. I'll tell you all together."

* * *

**Sorry for the extremely late update but I had to go through a load of things I wasn't happy with for the whole story so far, hence the repost and conjoined chapters. I'll try to make it asap next time but I can't guarantee it as I have so much to do.**

**Review…please?**


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